Haymitch Loves Haymitch
by alixxblack
Summary: It's the night before the Reaping and Haymitch finds himself mildly attracted...to himself? A comedic self-contained conversation with Mr. Haymitch Abernathy. One-shot!


Disclaimer: You know the drill, you know the game. This isn't my material, it isn't my fame. I'm taking the plots and the names. I'm changing the ships and the themes. I'm writing leisurely for you an me :):)

Author's note: This is my sad effort at trying to have a bit of comedy in my fics. It's a one-shot one-go no-look-backs short piece I typed in 15 minutes.

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Haymitch stumbled through the kitchen. Tomorrow was the Reaping and surely two more jokes were going to be reaped as the tributes for District 12. He didn't put much effort into them anymore. When he did try he got attached and he couldn't stand to watch the Capitol kill everyone he'd ever cared about any longer. He threw the last drops of a clear liquid from a clear bottle into his mouth.

"Mr. Abernathy, you are looking good tonight." Haymitch whirled around at the voice. What was going on, he wondered. There was nobody else in his house. Nobody talked to him except, well, no; nobody spoke to him even if he was buying alcohol in the Hob in the earliest hours of the day. He cocked his head to the side and stared at a mirror. Suddenly the lips of his reflection started to move. Haymitch was sure his own lips weren't moving. He squinted in attempt to pay closer attention to himself.

"You're looking handsome sweetheart. You're just one hot mess." Haymitch couldn't help but notice the smirk on the independent reflection. It was thinking and speaking of its own accord and it chose to say wonderful things about Haymitch, the one and only Mr. Abernathy. He chuckled and ran his dusty fingers through his greasy hair that shagged around his cheekbones.

"I am looking pretty good. You aren't too shabby yourself, there, doll." Haymitch went crashing forward when he leaned nearer to the mirror to look lovingly at the exact replication of his face. The bottle that had been in his free hand shattered on the floor along with the mirror where his friend had been. "Rubbish." Haymitch's now shattered reflection proclaimed at him after slamming down.

"You look great in pieces." Haymitch cackled. His eyes were blurring as he fiddled with his hands to occupy them until he got a bottle from his back-up supply of alcohol in his bathroom. When he stopped talking he hurried to get his depressants, nearly beheading himself on a doorknob trying to wobble up a set of stairs. Haymitch found his friend waiting for him in the upstairs mirror.

"I thought I lost you down there." He yelped, pointing just off center of the mirror into the shower curtain instead. Haymitch was obviously drunk, although it was less so than normal. In fact, someone might have said he was more functional than normal. He'd be a mess by morning; at least that was the goal. Haymitch's identical buddy didn't respond for several hours as Haymitch kicked back bottle after bottle until he was mumbling incoherently. That's when the reflection decided to communicate.

"You're irresistible. I love you!" He was twirling in that mirror of his. "I love you Mr. Abernathy! Let the world hear my proud admiration! I love you, Haymitch Abernathy!" This left Haymitch in a fit of laughter. He was fumbling with the last bottle in the supply, although it was only the first set of back-up alcohol supplies. It dumped everywhere when he sat it upside down somehow. Haymitch tripped on the puddle as he attempted to stand. He wasn't sure if he was standing on two feet, if he was standing at all but he leaned into his shower head. There was a tiny reflection of his eye so he thought he had the mirror. He started open mouth kissing it with grunting-like groans filling the air.

"Haymitch, you animal. You're so damn desirable. I love you too, Mr. Abernathy!" He repeated these phrases until the room turned to a light gray and faded into a mushy charcoal color. The sun was rising just barely but Haymitch was just about passed out. He'd wake in a few hours, just in time for being extremely late for the Reaping. Mr. Abernathy fell asleep with tight shut eyes and a wrinkled smile that was still sheepishly laughing at his self-contained romance.


End file.
